


Nepenthe

by QueenofEden



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cousland-Typical Angst, F/F, Feelings, First Kiss, First Relationship, Forehead Touching, Kisses Make The Best Birthday Gifts, Lesbian Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofEden/pseuds/QueenofEden
Summary: nepenthe - (noun), An ancient greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. It is a place, person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.





	Nepenthe

**Author's Note:**

> lovingly beta-d by [rhoswenmahariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salutationtothestars/pseuds/rhoswenmahariel)

They’re more than a week out from Redcliffe once again, this time farther Westward than Olympia has ever been in her life. The foothills of the mighty Frostbacks crowd the path to Orzammar with craggy outcroppings covered in newly fallen snow. Leafless, ancient looking trees stand like unwelcoming sentinels at irregular intervals. Everyone feels restless here, the cold and foreboding landscape driving their group to anxious and bitter spirits.

That night they share bread and a stew of undeterminable origins, its heat and lack of flavor being its most pleasant features. The fire roars large and blisteringly hot, the consensus being that all would prefer a fair fight against cocksure bandits drawn in by the flame than a slow, cruel death by cold. While they eat, Zevran entertains them with tales of balmy Antiva, of sparkling seas and fresh citrus. His gifts of storytelling and hyperbole weave together a blanket of words comforting enough to make it almost possible to forget the chill all together.

Olympia, however, remains chilled to her bones. Less so from the frost, and more from the black mood that has clouded her thoughts since the moment she’d woke that morning. She wishes she’d never asked Eamon the date before they’d left, wishes she could have lived in blissful ignorance, or put what he’d told her out of her mind entirely. Instead, she's counted each day, like tallies burned into her thoughts, until finally, dawn broke on this one.

Of all things, out of all the undeniable facts she’d come to accept since the night she’d lost her family -- though they were not truly _lost_ , for she knew exactly where she’d left them, broken and bloody and dying in the remains of her once beautiful home -- it had never yet occurred to her that every birthday she had left to her would be... without them. Obvious in its simplicity, the idea struck her hard when it came, and she had wept a few bitter, quiet tears over it into Loki’s fur, safe in the privacy of her tent.

She’d told no one, obviously, and no one had paid any real mind to the slight change for the worse in her demeanor -- too used to her moods coming and going with the winds, and too absorbed in their own sour thoughts brought on by the freezing, uphill drudgery of their travels. Now, though, as the post-mealtime plans of those not currently on watch take them to the warmth of their individual bedrolls, Leliana joins her. They’ve taken watch together so many times now, no one bothers to question.

It still startles Olympia how close she sits, no longer seeing the need for propriety now that their fledgling feelings for one another are laid bare. They sit pressed together from hip to knee, Leliana tucking her head against Olympia’s cloak-covered shoulder. It doesn’t seem comfortable, her neck craned just a little too far, cheek pressed against scratchy, secondhand wool, but Leliana looks content, eyes slipping closed to bask in the firelight.

“Are you all right?” she asks after only a few moments, her eyes still shut. “You’ve seemed melancholy all day.”

Olympia releases an unintentionally held breath, shaking her head.

“Have I?”

She hums in affirmation. “All week, really. I’d hoped, eventually, you’d tell me why.”

Leliana is entirely too astute at times. Usually, they are the times when Olympia wishes most that she wasn’t. She considers not saying anything, briefly, before the guilt settles in. She cannot hide things from Leliana now, not that she ever really could, and she knows it all too well. The strangest part comes at the tail end of her thoughts when she realizes, despite her hesitance, she _wants_ to tell her. The knowledge that she could rend her heart open for this woman happily, spill out all her deepest and darkest feelings at her feet, and that Leliana would take them one by one in hand like precious jewels both frightens and thrills her.

She draws a few aimless swirls across Olympia’s knee with the tip of her finger. It tickles, and sends chills up Olympia’s spine that have nothing to do with cold.

“It’s just been--” Olympia starts. Then she frowns, though Leliana cannot see it. “Difficult. Lately. I’ve been thinking again of my-- you know. More so, with, well, everything. Today especially.”

Leliana stills her hand and places it more firmly against Olympia’s thigh in silent acknowledgement. They’ve spoken of her family before, a few times. That particular source of pain needs no more explanation. After a few quiet seconds, Leliana finally asks, “What makes today so special?”

Olympia bites the inside of her cheek nearly hard enough to draw blood. She’d known this was coming.

“It’s my birthday.”

Leliana’s head raises instantly, blue eyes open and turned towards her, widened and shimmering in surprise. “Your birthday?” she breathes, something like wonder in her voice. Olympia flushes. Leliana reaches up and touches Olympia’s burning cheek lightly. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“What would it have mattered?” Olympia asks, a spark of defensive shame flaring to life in her chest. She smothers it almost immediately, pushing the feeling down deep after seeing Leliana’s gentle, bemused expression falter.

“I would have made sure Alistair wasn’t in charge of supper, for one.” That makes Olympia chuckle, and Leliana’s smile blooms brighter across her face. “And I would have gotten you a gift of course.”

“No, no--”

“Everyone deserves to be spoiled on their birthday.” Leliana says matter-of-factly, as sure as if she’d read it straight from the Chant itself. Then, a small crease forms between her brows, and she asks, “What is today? The date?”

Olympia blinks. “Twenty-second Haring?”

Leliana repeats it to herself twice, committing it to memory under her breath with a serious look of concentration. When she looks back up to meet her eyes, she looks sheepish. “Forgive me, I can be terrible with dates. The one thing even bard training could never quite cure me of.”

Olympia feels her heart swell in spite of herself. “It’s really-- it’s not that important. Please don’t make a fuss about it,” she lies, knowing full well that all her life she’d loved few things more than her own birthday; knowing that, in a different world, one untouched by reality, she’d be safe and warm right now, sat between her Mother and Father in the great hall of Castle Cousland. Her stomach would be fit to burst from too much mulled wine and her favorite fish stew, which Nan made special every year. A stack of opened gifts and letters would sit at her elbow, while Oren played in the leftover packaging-- folding the discarded paper into pirate hats for the two of them to play pretend in later. When she blinks away the vision, tears she hadn’t even realized were there spill out, trailing halfway down her cheeks.

Leliana breaths out a quiet _‘oh’_ , and wipes them away with gentle, gloved thumbs. She lets Olympia rest her head in the palm of her hand, long enough to swallow down the rest of the tears she has no desire to shed, and breathe out a single, tremulous breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Her expression is so inexplicably tender, Olympia could start weeping again over it alone. She won’t. She doesn’t. Instead she takes both Leliana’s hands in her own and manages a smile, a week’s worth of tension slowly unfurling in her chest.

This-- this is what she wants, and nothing but this. No other thoughts, no memories that lurk in the corners of her mind, just Leliana here before her, to banish them like a shining torch.

“I did get to spend the day with you here,” Olympia says, and Leliana’s eyes widen again, slightly. “Even if you didn’t know. So it wasn’t all bad.”

Leliana ducks her head, a blush deep enough to match her hair smattered behind her freckles when she looks back up, obvious even in the flickering firelight. “What a sweet-talker you are,” she whispers, thumbs running over the bruised and calloused ridges of Olympia’s knuckles. The lambskin of her gloves is soft and warm.

Beside them, the fire shifts and pops, startling them into staring as branches smolder and collapse in on themselves. They send a shower of sparks upward to be carried off by the wind, mingling with the stars. Perhaps they’d find Leliana’s dearest Alindra and her soldier-love, Olympia thinks wistfully, even as the embers start to fade to ash and fall away.

“I’ve thought of what I’d like to give you as a gift,” Leliana says beside her. Olympia turns back from the fire, to see Leliana already staring. There is a look in her eyes Olympia cannot fathom: apprehension, mixed with something almost like awe, and beneath it all an expression hot as the floating embers, that Olympia doesn’t recognize.

“Wh- b--” She immediately balks, but Leliana shushes her with a hand on her shoulder, cautious as one gentling a nervous mare. When she quiets, the hand travels upwards, cupping her jaw sweetly, fingers tickling the untouched skin just behind her ear. A shudder runs through her, every nerve in her body suddenly alight.

Then Leliana leans in and presses her lips to Olympia’s. They are warm -- dry, and chapped, and they catch against Olympia’s own when she moves. She stays still, struck dumb and silent, and barely breathes until Leliana pulls back with a tentative half smile. Her eyes flicker across Olympia’s face with uncharacteristic anxiety. Olympia sees all this because her own eyes never close. A distant memory echoes in the back of her mind, pulling back from a startled face to see nothing but fear and disgust. It forces Olympia to blink owlishly once, twice, then lift her fingers to her lips where the ghost of Leliana’s still linger.

“You kissed me,” she says, breathless, feeling a grin twitching at the corners of her mouth. Across from her, Leliana almost seems to sag with relief.

“I did, yes.” She tilts her head, and says curiously, but not cruelly, “That was your first?”

Olympia flushes, painful embarrassment churning up her stomach. “I-- once there was-- I tried, but-- she didn’t-- I was only a child.” Every word feels clumsy and juvenile, and her tongue feels thick in her mouth. Foolish.

“It’s all right, Olympia. It’s all right,” Leliana whispers, touching her arm again in soothing strokes. There is sympathy and comfort in her gestures, but Olympia doesn’t want those from her now-- she wants whatever there was before. That fire she sensed in her eyes, that bored holes straight through to her soul, the touch of her hand that struck like flint against steel. Olympia takes that hand in her own and stills it, holding it tight like a vise.

“Kiss me again?” she asks, before her mind can convince her to do otherwise. Leliana hesitates for only a second before slipping her free hand to the back of Olympia’s neck and closing the space between them once more.

This time when they touch, Olympia attempts to move in tandem, trusting Leliana’s experience to guide her. Her eyes slip shut, overwhelmed by sensation, as gentle fingers encourage her to tilt her head _just so_ , and suddenly their lips are slotted together like interlocking pieces of a puzzle. She gasps, lips parting, feeling that spark she had been seeking ignite, and she swears she can feel Leliana smile against her. What must be the tip of Leliana’s tongue sweeps wet and hot across her top lip. Unthinking, she whimpers.

The feeling is unlike anything else. Her chest burns -- though not from lack of air. She is on fire from the inside out, heat building in the pit of her belly and spreading out through her limbs, making her head light and thoughtless. It purges her of anything and everything she was before this, in this moment she is simply Leliana’s -- as free and wanton as she dares to be.

When Leliana pulls back again, Olympia gives chase, not willing to lose the feeling so quickly. Her hands find Leliana’s thighs, blunted nails scratching at the taut fabric. This time it is Leliana who draws a sharp breath through her nose, and Olympia’s tongue that teases the seam between Leliana’s lips. They part to take Olympia’s bottom lip between them, the soft graze of unexpected teeth drawing out a cry and sparking gooseflesh across her whole body.

Leliana chuckles, leaning away just enough to drop a small kiss to the tip of Olympia’s nose. “Well-- you certainly are a quick learner.”

Olympia flushes again, but hides it by pressing her forehead against Leliana’s. They are both feverishly warm, and Olympia can see that the heavy rise and fall of Leliana’s chest matches her own.

“Thank you.”

What else is she meant to say now? Anything else seems too much, and speech too difficult.

Leliana’s fingers rub small circles at the back of her neck, and oh -- how she wishes her hair were loose so she could luxuriate in the feeling of it being tangled up in that hand. She feels… not quite herself. Or perhaps, too much herself; a part of her awakened now, an Olympia reborn, that she had never expected to meet -- hadn’t thought herself capable of containing. It’s dizzying in the most satisfying way, the feeling of spinning as fast as her childhood legs could take her, before dropping to the grass just for the sheer pleasure and excitement of watching the sky swirl.

“Is it safe to say you enjoyed your gift?” Leliana teases, leaning away now so they can look at one another properly. Firelight dances in her too-blue eyes, and paints her hair and skin in hues of orange and coppery-gold -- the living embodiment of the warmth still coursing through Olympia’s veins.

Olympia laughs, really and truly laughs in a way she hasn’t in far too long, and nods because she still doesn’t think she trusts herself to speak, even if she could.

Instead, she leans in to kiss her for a third time.


End file.
